


Grumpy Meal

by murdergatsby



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crack, Don't take this seriously because I'm not, Fluff, Hannibal is dramatic, Hannibal is pretentious, M/M, This may not be the reckoning that either of them had in mind, mcdonalds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 19:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6532336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdergatsby/pseuds/murdergatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham, angry with Hannibal, goes to McDonald's for dinner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grumpy Meal

**Author's Note:**

> I intended for this to be pure crack and read as a dramatic retelling of what it's like to eat McDonalds, but it got a little fluffy at the end. What are you going to do?
> 
> The 'that' which caused their fight isn't important in my opinion, so I don't have anything in mind. Will is just upset with Hannibal, and both of them feel as though they've over reacted.

Hannibal could smell it before he heard the car door shut. Over powering the smell of wine that stained his lips and the soap that washed away the remains of his own dinner, was the smell of Will’s replacement dinner. Hannibal’s eyes narrowed as his neck snapped in the direction of the door that lead to the garage.

Will entered the room with an all too smug smile on his face. He closed the door and faced Hannibal, startling in the soft way he always did when met with _that_ expression: jaw tight, eyes darkened and fixed. It was threatening but only brought the smile on Will’s lips to wider planes. He imagined what all Hannibal could be thinking about doing to him, all manner of violence and torturous ends that he’d never act on because _he knew_ he’d miss him too much.

Will swept into the entry room where Hannibal was up waiting for him. Hannibal sat on an antiqued bench, un-cracked book resting over his crossed legs. He was clearly nervous Will wouldn’t return after their spat, despite the look of pure get-out-of-my-house that shadowed his being now. Will hid one hand behind his form (although he knew the contents were not very well hidden) as he brushed his free palm over Hannibal’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry about that.” He said. Neither of them believed he meant it.

He continued walking from the entry room until he found himself in their dining room. The table could hold eight if it needed to, but tonight it was just the two of them. Will moved to sit at the head of the table as Hannibal rounded the corner.

Will placed the brightly colored cardboard box on to the unprotected table. Hannibal knew he couldn’t _really_ physically feel the way the grease was leaking from the bottom of the box, but he would argue if anyone else told him different.

“I see you found yourself dinner.” Hannibal said, gesturing to the McDonald’s carton. He sounded as completely unbothered as he intended.

Will nodded and leaned back in his chair. He watched Hannibal as he fumbled with the ends of his sleeves. It was an endearing thing Will had noticed Hannibal did when he was experiencing nerves (he not dare call Hannibal _nervous_ ). So, despite the fact that his voice was as calm and soothing as ever, Will knew he was bothering him just as much as he, too, had intended.

Hannibal felt tiny under Will’s gaze, a feeling he was often comfortable with nowadays, but not at all in this moment. He moved to sit at the other end of the table and be as far away from Will’s essence, and the atrocity residing within that box.

“Did you enjoy your dinner?” Will asked as he popped the cardboard tabs necessary to open the box.

The smell became stronger and Hannibal hallowed his cheeks to hold off a gag. It was a heavy smell that reached the back of Hannibal’s throat with notes like barbed wire. In fact, he would have preferred barbed wire to the agonizing stench of salted grease, thawed potatoes, and meat cut with pink bile that was raking his senses raw.

Regardless to how close Hannibal felt to a fume-induced headache, he nodded back at Will’s question with a smile. “I’m sorry you weren’t here to enjoy it with me.” He spoke with sincerity.

Will faked remorse, exaggerating his features into those of the sad. “I am too.” He said. He paused for a moment, with his hands outstretched on the table as if he were reaching to cup them over Hannibal’s.

“But,” Will continued, making Hannibal’s shoulders sink and the faux smile run from his face. “It has been a long time since I’ve eaten at McDonald’s.”

Will reached into the box and revealed a small burger, wrapped in a dirty yellow wax wrapper. He placed the burger on the table and began to open it.

Hannibal found it in himself to remain silent, because he knew that anything that would come out of his mouth at this time would be a victory for Will. His mind was too overwhelmed with thoughts of “Please don’t put that on the table” and “Please don’t put that in your mouth.” to come up with anything of his usual dry and controlled banter. He practically wanted to throw his head down and whine at him, _please don’t put that in your mouth_.

The bread on the burger was fluffy, but with a toasted outer coating that reminded Will of a shell. Except bread didn’t have a shell, it had a crust. The quarter inch patty that rested with in the bun like a soggy cookie of meat didn’t help sell the fact that this was a burger to Will, either.

Will knew that being with Hannibal had ruined his ability to tolerate fast food. He had liked it in the past, in the small doses that everyone claims to like fast food in fear of actually admitting that they like to drown your taste buds in salt and sugar until those are the only “spices” they can recognize.

Hannibal’s meals, bits-o-human aside, had a way of reintroducing the concept of _flavor_ to one’s pallet (Hell, even including his ‘bits-o-human.’ Will was well-past pretending that human kidney didn’t taste _that bad_. Especially not when Hannibal had his way with it). And, while Hannibal did not often prepare things one could find in a drive through window, he had once caught Will’s eyes rolling over a particular meal they were sharing. He asked him if he would have preferred something else, and Will shared that “Sometimes I wish we could just have burgers, you know?”

The next night Hannibal prepared the most incredible burger Will had even eaten.

Will was highly aware that this was not going to be that burger.

Will fought the urge to pry open the lips of the burger to look at what hid inside, because that would destroy the illusion that he was ready to enjoy this meal just as much as he would have enjoyed the food Hannibal had made. He raised it to his lips and took a heavy bite.

Upon Will’s first bite, Hannibal felt slapped. Upon the second, Hannibal knew that Will was going to need to wash his mouth if he planned on kissing him again. _In fact,_ Hannibal thought. _Forget ‘just’ the mouth._ Will was going to need to bathe thoroughly after this if he wanted Hannibal to kiss him again. The putrid scent would surely linger in his hair and skin just as long as it would in his mouth. He wasn’t going to touch _their_ bed with _that_ body, and he wasn’t going to touch Hannibal either.

Of course, by Will’s fourth bite, Hannibal had realized that Will could last without contact from Hannibal a lot longer than Hannibal could from him. He had been good at waiting once, but now that was over. All attempts at holding back proved to be failures. He settled in to the concept that Will was _probably_ going to kiss him at some point tonight, and that he was _probably_ going to allow it to happen. As he settled on this, he realized that Will had stopped eating to watch him. Then, Hannibal realized that he had been frowning while he thought about what the future held for them.

Will was overjoyed to see that look of hopelessness finally crawl over Hannibal’s face. His smile had been held so long that he’s cheeks were beginning to hurt, but he wasn’t ready to put it away just yet.

His burger was gone, leaving behind only a ketchup stained wrapper and a slightly metallic taste in his mouth. He crumpled it in one hand and wiped his hand over where it had rested. There was a bit of condensation on the table from the heat of the burger, which his hand spread. He nodded at it as if he had made a realization, then stood to leave the room.

Hannibal locked eyes with the blurry, misprinted ‘bugles’ that adored the box from Hell. The wide and toothy grin seemed to mock him for losing his control, and frowning.

He heard Will open a cupboard, presumably the one beside the sink that hid away their garbage.

_At least he’s done._ Hannibal thought trying to regroup so that he would be back in the game when Will returned. While planning for possible dialogue, he again found himself again locked in sights with _the box_.

The box seemed to know the failure Hannibal was feeling as it looked right through him and into the wall behind him. Hannibal snarled at it. He couldn’t believe he had allowed that to happen, to allow Will a victory so quickly and easily but just forgetting to guard his expressions. Especially when the defeat he was feeling wasn’t even about the food, or even what they had been fighting about before Will left.

He heard the tapping of Will’s shoes coming closer to the entrance of the dining room, which lead him to the startling question: _if he’s done, why is the box still on the table?_

“What are you-” Hannibal snapped as he saw Will again. His tone was much hotter than it had been when he had spoken to him earlier, another personal disappointment.

Will took note of this by turning in his place, like he was looking over his shoulder to see who it could possibly be that was invoking such a rage. After all, he was only holding a plate. It couldn’t _possibly_ be him.

“It was inconsiderate of me, to eat that on the table like I did.” Will explained. He tipped the plate up in his hands as if it were fan before resting it on the table. His statement was far from sincere. He fished out the paper container of fries that still hid with in the box and dumped them on to the plate.

Hannibal hated that he wasn’t sure which he actually preferred; to have Will leave the sweaty residue of the waste he was consuming on his lovely table, or for Will to allow the flavors of that same waste stain his beautiful dishes. They were both equally offensive.

Will ate his fries slowly. He considered getting back up to retrieve a fork to enjoy them with, just for the sake of ridiculousness and stretching the time to consume them. He would have acted on the thought if he wasn’t so sure that the fries would be collected and disposed of in the time it took him to come back.

He placed a half-eaten fry back on to his plate and dusted the salt from his fingers. He began to riffle through the box again.

Hannibal sighed at the sound of wrappers crinkling around his intrusion, confirming for him that there were even more horrors within. When Will removed the plastic wrapped, poorly constructed toy from the bag, Hannibal felt himself give in to his defeat. While Will fiddled and pulled on the wrapping, Hannibal’s temperature rose until he felt it necessary to finger at the constriction of his tie in order to get in a proper breath.

“Can you think of anywhere we could display this?” Will asked, not visibly able to see Hannibal’s defeat. “I think it would look nice at the end of the hall. Instead of the vase, maybe?”

“This is childish.” Hannibal said, completely ignoring Will’s teasing. If he was closer to where Will sat, he might have snagged the bag from his hands and crushed the contents into his palm until he felt the plastic joints pop from their machine-made places.

Will lowered the toy to the table and laughed. His brow furrowed. “As was our argument, Hannibal.” He spoke in a tone that was much more hostile than any tone Hannibal had delievered that night. It had a bite to it, as if he had barked it, even though the actual volume of his voice never broke that of something casual.

Will took in a deep breath as he filed through the points he knew he could make. All the you-don’t-understand’s that he’d come up with on his drive to clear his mind, and the and-another-thing’s that he had come up with on his drive to McDonalds. On his exhale, he shook them all away. As much as he wanted Hannibal suffer, he wasn’t mad about that anymore and didn’t want to stir any of that energy up again. He had thought of plenty of I’m-sorry’s on the way home from McDonalds, too.

Will waited for Hannibal to speak, but he didn’t. He only turned up his chin and flared his nostrils in a form of self-defense. Will pouted his lip at this.

“Are you upset I didn’t get you anything?” Will said. His voice had cooled again- No more bark, no more bite. He was back to teasing.

Hannibal rolled his tongue against his teeth. “No.” He said. “If I were starving I wouldn’t allow that filth to save me.”

“Because I did.” Will said. He didn’t exactly interrupt Hannibal, but his apparent disregard for what Hannibal had said made it feel that way. “I couldn’t just forget you.”

Will picked up the box and lowered it under the lip of the table. He removed _something_ and the placed the box back up on the table.

“Close your eyes.” Will suggested.

“I won’t be doing that.” Hannibal shut-down.

Will waited a moment to see if Hannibal would comply anyway, which he did not. He moved his chair back and stood with extra care to allow the _something_ to remain hidden as he approached Hannibal.

When Will was too close to be stopped, he revealed and placed the circular strip of cardboard on top of Hannibal’s head. It smelled like feet and dampness.

“What is this?” Hannibal asked, with a stiff neck and eyes locked forward. He reminded Will of a cat so often.

Will laughed to himself and took in the sight he had created. Hannibal looked alright with the golden arches wrapped around his head as a crown. The words “Birthday boy!” had been written with a thick black sharpie, per-Will’s request. It wasn’t anywhere close to Hannibal’s birthday, but that was highly unimportant.

“It’s a hat.” Will explained much too simply. He bent so that his face was level with Hannibal’s cheek, and then kissed him there. Will half expected his skin to actually retreat from his cheekbone along with it, from the way he was acting.

Hannibal turned to him slowly, still stiffly. At first his face held his same aggression, but that feeling was no match for Will’s smile. He felt himself relax against it, and he let himself soften.

Will parted his lips to no-doubt say something full of snark, but Hannibal spoke first.

“I’m sorry.”

The smile on Will’s face wiped away. He wasn’t expecting an apology. He didn’t really feel either of them deserved one.

“I won’t do that again.” Hannibal added. His eyes dropped down Will’s body and then back up to his face. He looked truly remorseful, which only added to the hilarity of the crown.

Will found it in him to smile again, but it was a different smile. This smile was real, stemming from his heart rather than the joy that came from Hannibal not killing him. “It’s okay.”

Hannibal turned away and gazed at the pile of fries still resting on Hannibal’s plate, on Hannibal’s table. “I’m going to go to bed.” He said. “You will be cleaning that plate.”

Will nodded. “Of course.” He lazily raised his arm and wrapped it around Hannibal’s shoulder. He brought his face close enough to Hannibal’s so that he was sure he could taste exactly what the fries tasted like.

“Will you be joining me?” Hannibal asked. It wasn’t meant to be suggestive, but as an invitation. He wanted Will to say yes and remind him that it was okay for Hannibal to sleep with him tonight. They had never slept apart after a fight but there had been nights where it really felt like one of them should have. Hannibal hated those nights.

Will nodded in agreement. It was the closest Hannibal was going to get to an apology, and so Hannibal couldn’t help but smile back at him.

Will moved to kiss him and, as Hannibal has predicted, he let it happen.


End file.
